When I was a kid I had an obsession with Native Americans. I loved Pocahontas and learning about different tribes in school. Josefina was my first (and therefore most loved) American Girl Doll. When my mom found out that my babysitter’s father was 50% native american she set up a meeting so I could meet him.
I played a lot of make-believe. I had an absurd amount of dress-ups and 20 acres of land to imagine on. For two straight years, or maybe more, I imagined life as a native in Maine. I made a teepee and pranced around the woods pretending every living thing had a spirit. Even though these woods provided me the ability to imagine the impossible I was highly bothered by the fact that I didn’t look the part. This was probably impounded by the fact that my best friend did. I wished my blonde hair and fair skin away.